Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
by Citiesofcolor
Summary: I sit here, weighing his cash and his words. And thinking. Thinking about who, of all people, I just kicked out of my dive of a tavern. Oneshot: Marion's thoughts during the bar scene in Raiders. One of the first fanfictions I ever wrote.


Hi, this is my first Indiana Jones fanfic. I love the movies (especially Raiders. Long Live IndyxMarion!) and just found this category after I saw the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I think for those who are completely shocked that I would write something else other than Warriors should realize that I do have other interests. I really need to update my profile... This particular chapter is set, for those of you that don't know, during Raiders of the Lost Ark.

If Shadow of the Devil just happens to read my oddball story, I really needed to get this out of my system.

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I sit here at this table weighing his cash and his words. And thinking. Thinking about who, of all people, I just kicked out of my tavern. I remember exactly what happened. For the longest time that morning when I reached next to me to find him gone played over and over in a continuous loop. I was so young. I thought the only thing I felt toward him now was bitterness. Then he comes to my bar and I realize that buried beneath all that hate there is still a stubborn little spark of love. Damn it. I still love that idiot.

He just had to bring up Abner. God. Why is it that he only ever cared about Abner? The whole reason he left, if I remember correctly from his note, was that Abner would kill him if he ever found out. Which he eventually did. Find out I mean. He was right about that him. Abner was ready to skin him alive when he came up and found me mooning over a note written by his late student.

I hang the medallion on the candle holder, where it goes every night, . It is the one of the only pieces that I bothered to keep. I wonder what he wants it for. Indiana Jones came all the way to Nepal to find it. It must be worth a lot to him, last I heard he was still in the states teaching history classes at a community college.

I jump as a blast of cold hits my right shoulder. A scraggly group of men I would understand, but this well dressed one leading them here? I try to force the bolts of fear racing through my body down as they walk through the door.

"Good evening Fräulein." The man in the black suit stammers. It doesn't seem to me that he's German. Still trying to swallow my fear I muster up all my courage.

"The bar is closed." I huff automatically, using the toughness I gained from dealing with drunk men trying to get a piece of me.

"We are not thirsty." He gives nervous laugh. As if I didn't know that. He obviously didn't travel all the way to a tiny village in Nepal to taste its whiskey. It's almost as if he is eager to get something done. His stammer gets even worse. The way he's looking at me makes another buzz of fear ring in my thoughts.

"What do you want?" I force my gut reaction, to bolt out of the tavern and into my neighbor's house, back down my throat.

"The same thing your friend Doctor Jones wanted. Surely he told you there would be other interested parties?" His mouth has stayed into that twisted evil smirk that I guess was supposed to be a smile the entire time he's been here. I sit down and pull out a cigarette. I usually don't smoke, but this seems to be a good opportunity to use the entire tough person charade. I stick one in my mouth and pull out a lighter.

"Must have slipped his mind." I respond. I light the cigarette as he continues stammering.

"The man is nefarious. I hope for your sake he has not acquired it." His smirk becomes even wider. A jolt of indignation joins the fear humming in my head. Indiana would never cheat me out of money. Dignity; yes. Money; no. I wonder if he actually left. I know that no one here in this entire village will get here quickly if I scream, one of the downsides for living in a permanent snowstorm. I have to stall somehow. Maybe Jones saw them come in and didn't like their looks.

"Why? Are you willing to offer more?" I get up close to his face and pull out the cigarette.

"Oh, almost certainly." He loses his stammer as his eyes harden behind his gold-rimmed glasses. The smirk can't be described as anything but malicious. "Do you still have it?" His voice is dangerous now. I blow a puff of smoke directly into his face and suppress a smirk mirroring his own when he coughs.

"No." I try to sound insolent. I need to get away from his ice cold gaze and fake smile. I stand up and walk back behind the counter. This gives me a blessed few moments to compose myself before facing the the man in the black suit again. "But I know where it is." He is too close to where the medallion is for my comfort. I try the only thing I can do to get him away from there. "Hey. What about a drink for you and your men?"

"Your fire is dying, here." He says as he takes off his gloves and bends a little to move the poker. I feel another buzz of fear and foreboding in my stomach when he speaks again.

"Why don't you tell me where the piece is right now?" His voice is even colder than before, and the words seem to ring with an unspoken threat. I know better than to think that is a question. I sit back down.

"Listen Herr Mack, I don't know what kind of people you are used to dealing with, but nobody tells me what to do in my place." I regret those words the minute I speak them. It is a huge risk to take, maybe it will make him back off, but then again, it will probably provoke him. He stiffens and the fear fills my body again, supercharging my senses. Then he says something that chills my blood.

"Fräulein Ravenwood, let me show you what I am used to." He shouts something and one of his men grabs me from behind. My mind goes immediately into fight or flight mode as he lifts me of my feet and carries me, kicking and yelling, over to the counter.

"Get your hands off me!" I shout, but of course, it has no effect. I'm no match for this hulk of a man. Another one comes to help him. The one forces me into a sitting position while the other pins my arms behind my back and yanks my braid down hard, forcing my chin up and exposing my neck. I gasp as adrenalin rushes through my veins. "Get your lousy hands off!"

The man dressed in black pulls the now heated poker out of the fire and face twists into a leer that a spider probably has when he knows he's got a fly trapped in his web. The tip glows dully, casting an evil aura around him and elongating his shadow. Indy where are you when I need you?

"Wait a minute," I gasp fear obvious in my voice, "I can be reasonable." I am sickened with myself stooping this low so quickly.

"That time is passed." He no longer stammers, all he is now is a demon in a black suit. His eyes glitter evilly as he advances and I try to shrink back against the man holding me.

"You don't need that." I'm the one with the stammer now. He advances closer and closer, sweat glints on his face. I let out small squeaks of terror when he starts to lift the poker even with my cheek. I can now feel the heat coming off of it in waves, stifling and unrelenting. The fear must glitter in my eyes now. It is close enough for me to touch it.

"Wait." I gasp. "I'll tell you everything." Indy please! He keeps coming. He stops and slowly raises the glowing tip to even closer, situating it so he can graze it down my throat. He is so close to my face that I am barraged by his disgusting breath when he speaks again.

"Yes, I know you will." His smile is malignent and taunting. I see the glowing tip come agonizingly closer still. I feel tears form in my eyes. I try to scream, but nothing more than whimpers comes out. It comes so close; he is going to draw it straight down my neck. I shut my eyes and wait for the searing white-hot pain to overload my senses, for the inhuman shriek of intense pain to tear loose from my chest as I writhe from the scorching touch.

All of a sudden I hear the crack of a bullwhip and I scream as the man behind me yanks my hair as he jerks in surprise. Then there is a dull clang of metal on stone. The man in the black suit lets a fleeting sign of rage cross his face before he grabs my shoulders and pulls me in front of him. Then his blessed voice.

"Let her go."

My prayers have been answered. My Indiana has come for me.

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Wow. I seriously am sick of watching that three or four minute period in Raiders to get all the dialogue straight. Whew. Done. Please review.


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